


The Pirate and His Sharp Eyed Friend

by statesofuncertainty



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Daycare, Friendship, John and Sherlock as kids, Kid Fic, Kid!Fic, Kid!Lock, Kidlock, M/M, no slash they are too young
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-31
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2017-11-27 15:19:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 11,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/663507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/statesofuncertainty/pseuds/statesofuncertainty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kid!lock Suddenly the wind was knock out of him and with an exclamation of disgust he turned sharply to face the lump of beige fabric which had interrupted his reverie. The knitted jumper slowly rose, and revealed a pair of blue apologetic eyes, whose owner quickly murmured an apology and sat bashfully opposite of Sherlock as he caught the breath he had lost</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Different

Sherlock Holmes was not your average 3 year old, as a baby while most kids his age were learning how to crawl, Sherlock had mastered the art of walking. While other toddlers were learning how to take the lids off markers, Sherlock was already capable of reading picture books. But while the other kids ran around and played with each other, Sherlock hid behind his mother's skirts and refused to look at any children who came up to him inviting him into their game, and this worried the doctors.

Mummy had said in her calm sweet voice that it was just as normal for Sherlock as it had been with Mycroft before him.

Whispers of 'autistic behaviour' and 'Aspergers syndrome', constantly vibrated the walls of the doctors' office, whenever Adèline Holmes sat in the Doctor's office, gently bounced her baby boy on her knee as she pressed his sleepy head against her chest.

"My eldest son Mycroft also showed these traits as a toddler as you ought to remember doctor. And after all those inconclusive tests the best psychiatrists in the country failed to diagnose him, so we took their advise and waited a couple of years, and now he is 10 and behaving as any intelligent boy would." argued Adèline

"I remember your son clearly, but even you must have noticed that Sherlock is more reclusive and obsessive then Mycroft ever was. This concerns me , we should get him tested and arrange special help accordingly."

The bouncing stopped as listed her doubts and concerns about the effect of putting her 3 year old son through all the appointments and stress that constantly being driven across the country to visit doctors. Mycroft had asked if he was broken, when they left the office of yet another incompetent doctor who after countless questions and numerous tests had also failed to come to a conclusion. It took several weeks to reassure Mycroft that although he wasn't like the other children he was not broken, it had crushed her heart to watch as Mycroft opened up a biology text book from her own university days and compared every inch of his own body to that photograph of a healthy toddler on page 145. He had soon afterwards looked up at her and stated that he must be broken on the inside because his outside was fine, just like the radio he had dropped in the pool last week, it was still glossy and dry on the outside but the insides were destroyed and useless because of water damage.

"Mummy? did I ever fall into the pool?"

They never again took young Mycroft to another psychiatrist.

Sherlock listened with half an ear, he was too busy trying to read the pamphlet about cancer, which had been left open and on the side table by a previous patient. Mycroft had taught him how to read when he turned 15 months. He had shocked his mother by reading out loud the newspaper headline which his father had carelessly left on the dining table. Sherlock had giggled, his chubby features lighting up as he continued to slowly pronounce a smaller headline concerning a burglary. Adèline had questioned him as to how he a 19 month old had managed to read. Sherlock had answered honestly that he had asked Mycroft to teach him, because he wanted to be able to read the poster of different coloured squares that she kept hung up on the wall of the small lab where she occasionally disappeared into emerging hours later beaker in hand and explaining to their father an interesting result during an experiment.  
She had laughed incredulously, and asked if he found the poster interesting. Sherlock had answered 'yes' but that he didn't understand the use of all the numbers and signs written in the corner of each square. Adèline had picked him up and making her way across the spacious house, entered her private lab and setting Sherlock on her small filing cabinet explained the different properties of each element and which ones were used in electronics and afterwards she demonstrated the effect that alkaline metals had with water by dropping a sliver of lithium into a flask of water. She had watched the fascinated Sherlock as his eyes followed the little flame as it sped around in circles like a boat on fire, until it eventually extinguished itself. He had absorbed the information instantaneously, it had left her wishing that the university students she gave lectures to when she was called in as a special guest, we're half as quick as the eager eyed child who was now reaching for her pipette and asking what it was.

Soon afterwards she was forced to lock away her own more explicit biology text books, feeling that it was best if her child didn't learn about the adult anatomy just yet, instead she ordered a large and illustrated 'human body' book for him which was aimed at school children but which he found invaluable. Sherlock often asked to watch her work in her lab, promising not to touch anything and to stay absolutely still. She obliged and while Mycroft was studying at school Sherlock watched tirelessly as his mother prepared calculations and wrote down the growth of the cultured colony of bacteria which she felt would hopefully be more effective then penicillin.

Sherlock never yelled "BANG" as he shot at an invisible enemy, and just like Mycroft he never willingly participated in the group activities designed to socialize young children. He could speak but often chose to point rather then simply open his mouth, but yet was polite and was happy to oblige his mother when a relative came over, he would put up with kisses and embraces and would say all the proper things, just like Mycroft, but only for the few minutes before the relative would prove to be stupid and boring. And once Sherlock lost all hope for that particular person he would become sullen and if Mycroft didn't lead him away he would soon be spouting observations ( a hobby of Mycroft's which he had taught Sherlock.) They had spent countless hours staring out into the street carefully watching every person who walked or drove down their street, Mycroft would roll Sherlock's old crib near the window where they would stand perched watching as lawyers and merchants passed down below, completely unaware that every event of their lives were being deduced by the two brothers.

It was a great way to entertain the inquisitive Sherlock, but it often backfired whenever an elderly relative made a remark on his almost sickly pale skin, then they would be shocked by the glare and sharp question as to why they continued to live a luxury life when they were on the brink of bankruptcy. The relative would never stay quiet enough to listen to how he noticed that their hair dye had gone from professionally done once a month, to done at home with a much cheaper brand. Old aunts would be too insulted to listen how he knew that although their coat was new, they hadn't bought any new broaches to match the dark brown fur. Such obvious signs of declining resources which were invisible to everyone else besides himself and Mycroft.

It was such uncaring, pointless and cruel statements which were made often with only the slightest provocation needed, that had the doctors worried.

" I would highly recommend taking Sherlock to at least two expert psychiatrists and hearing their opinions" said the doctor sternly after Mrs. Holmes finished speaking

" I will consider it, thank you Doctor." Adèline Holmes stated sharply as she grabbed her purse, and carefully balancing her son on her hip, she gracefully strode out of the office, her tall elegant figure sweeping out of the building and into the awaiting dark sleek car which drove smoothly out of sight.


	2. Into the pond

All was well in the Holmes' household, Mr. Holmes was away at meetings as usual, Mrs. Holmes absent mindedly reminded her eldest child to do his homework, as she began to plan her report about her discoveries about the new form of penicillin which she had perfected during the last few months. The maid would watch both beloved children, while she buried herself in her work.

Bernadette was a woman a few years older then Adèline, who was hired soon after Adèline married to help with the chores that pregnancy made very difficult. But as time went on it became clear that Bernadette was much more suited to child care then housecleaning and so they hired another maid who worked part time and this left Bernadette with her young charges who, each loved her and her uncanny ability to produce sweets seemingly out of thin air. This had especially endeared her to Mycroft who no matter how stealthily he moved, was always thwarted in his campaigns to nick a slice of cake from the fridge by the family cook, who ruled supreme in the kitchen and could sense an intruder a mile away.

Bernadette biggest failing is that she was easy to distract, and so she didn't look up from her romantic novel when Sherlock slipped through the large French doors and out into the beautifully landscaped yard.

It was Mycroft who after toiling away at his least favourite subject, first noticed his suddenly missing biology textbook and heard a loud 'splash' out by the large decorative pond which was situated just under his bedroom window.  
Sticking his head out of his second floor window he watched a soggy Sherlock scrambling up the rocks which surrounded the pond.

"What on earth are you doing Sherlock?" he called

"trying to d'wown myself" answered a very disgruntled Sherlock who slipped twice on the mossy rocks and barely saved himself from a second wetting by grabbing hold of rusted chain left there ages ago by a forgetful gardener.

With a sigh, Mycroft closed his window and made his way to alert Bernadette of his brothers escapade.  
When Sherlock returned through the large windows he was greeted by an amused Mycroft and a frantic Bernadette.  
"What were you doing by the pond! You know you are not allowed near it!" asked Bernadette with her faint French accent coming out full force in her concern.  
" I was looking for f'ogs, so My'cough can help me di-sect it, just like in his book"

"Oh, so you did take my textbook. I need that so I can study it Sherlock." Mycroft replied while the maid rubbed her hand across her face before she lifted the frog hunter and carried him quickly into the nearest bathroom where she stood him in the tub while ordering Mycroft to go fetch some dry clothes while she bathed him.

Sherlock had just donned his dry pair of socks when mummy appeared, having given up working in her lab for that day, at the first signs of a headache.

"Adèline, would it be okay with you if I took the boys to the park?"

"yes, go ahead. No actually I can take them, I have been inside for far too long."

" I believe that Sherlock wants to get a frog so Mycroft can dissect it with him, I think they can go look for one by the duck pond at the park" said Bernadette

"Really, Sherlock?"

Sherlock nodded smiling up at his mother who picked him up, immediately guessing the reason for the sudden shower and the pile of wet clothing which Bernadette was placing into a laundry basket.

" I told you not to go near the pond Sherlock!"

" but I needed a f'og, mummy"

Rolling her eyes and silencing her own laughter, she called Mycroft, slipped Sherlock into his shoes and passed him a large tupperware container with air holes which was left over from one of Mycroft's past experiments.

One successful frog hunt later, Sherlock sat quietly beside the large duck pond, folding a leaf into a sail which would be the perfect size for the stick he had fashioned into a suitable boat. His prized frog was beside him in the shade, unaware of its fate as it splashed around in it's prison.

Sherlock was so absorbed by his attempts to attach the mast to the centre of his ship, that he didn't notice the dark shadow cast by the young boy who had just stepped towards him.


	3. Sir John and King Harriet

John Watson was the most ordinary child to walk the earth. He was a textbook example of early child development, and a perfect specimen of a healthy 7 year old boy. He had been born on the day predicted by the doctors, without a single complication, to a loving but alcoholic mother, who had miraculously managed to sober up just for the duration of the pregnancy. John grew up at the exact national average and learnt to crawl, walk and eventually talk, just at the time he was expected to. His favourite toy was a teddy bear and his first love was mischief.

Harriet was his older sister who, being two years Johns' senior thought it was her business to annoy her brother and she tormented the boy whenever she was bored or in a bad mood, but she loved her brother deeply and would happily sit and play whichever game suited the day. If their mother was having a difficult day, she would lead him outside to a world where dragons were invading and king Harriet called upon the help of the noble "Sir John" to save the day.

The doctors never fretted about John. They would smile whenever the golden haired child entered their examination rooms being followed by his mother and Harry (a nickname Harriet had adopted ).

John got along very well with other kids and was always polite and caring. The only exceptions being when he and Harry chose a victim for their many practical jokes. Yet the jokes were harmless and the victims often laughed along side the blue eyed boy who smiled apologetically afterwards.

John's father was a tall burly man who loved his children, but he had had a difficult childhood full of abuse and alcoholism. He had very limited knowledge on how to raise children. He had forgotten the fear he felt when his own drunken father had argued with his mother, and the undeserved whippings he and his siblings received. And so as a result he had over the last decade become more and more like his parents. Drinking more often, allowing his temper to reach dangerous levels, and picking fights with the woman he married in front of the two terrified children, who after on particularly horrifying argument, had fled to the safety of the low branching oak tree where they often hid. Over time Harry had learnt to tell their fathers mood just by the way he walked up to the door. They would always know whether their father would come in hug and laugh with them or throw plates and curse his life blaming everyone but himself for his mistakes.

In the safety of the oak tree they kept umbrellas and blankets in case if it began to rain before father retired to watch television. They would watch the flashing lights emanating form the screen against the threadbare curtains, while their mother lay back crying and consoling herself with the bottle of gin which never ran dry and was always an arms reach away.

It was around that time that they would both slip across the darkened yard and in through their bedroom window where if they were lucky mother would feel calm enough to read them a story. But if she didn't it would be okay, she could always read to them tomorrow.

At the grand age of 'almost 8' John was placed in a daycare. During the months of summer holiday between the end and beginning of the school year, he needed to be watched while both his parents were at work. He found friends easily during he first few days, he liked football and the yard behind the school building allowed for a fair sized football field. The school itself was nothing impressive, an average sized bungalow house which had been converted into a pleasant and welcoming children preschool, during the school year, and a daycare for the duration of the summer. It was run by two young and energetic ladies who had bought the broken down house beside the bungalow and had it replaced with a playground and field. On the other side of the school building was an abandoned construction site which was in contrast with the peaceful, organized, middle class neighbourhood. The abandoned site had been over grown with spruce trees which grew over and around the masses of cement which had been torn down but not removed. Beyond the empty lot were more well kept bungalows and gardens. The school grounds were surrounded by a tall plain wooden fence, which prevented children from either running away from the grounds or entering the empty lot.

Ms. Danae welcomed John into her daycare and after a short introduction to the other twenty or so children Ms. Randie led the children away to the playground.

No new students were brought in for several days after Johns arrival. But one morning, John was wondering inside for a glass of water during a game of football and when he accidentally bumped and knocked over a dark curly haired boy, who watched John tumble down after him. The other boy glared angrily, and ignoring Johns words of apology he demanded the return of the book which had fallen from his hands and was now stuck under Johns legs. John quickly passed it over and the dark haired boy stalked over to the other corner of the room, dragging the heavy volumn. With his feelings slightly hurt by the other boys' anger, he returned outside forgetting his thirst and choosing to ignore the curly head which was bent over the pages of an atlas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This Chapter was edited by my beta, so hopefully you can tell the difference


	4. Dinosaurs are cool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock meets a rat faced brown haired little boy with a obsession for dinosaurs

Sherlock bitterly regretted the moment when he decided to insult the stupid rat faced boy who had wondered over to his ship building site. The boy called Phillip had decided that his game of dinosaurs needed a velociraptor, and the only child around who had no one to play with was the young boy quietly building a boat by the pond.  
He had assumed that Sherlock would be interested in his game, but Sherlock had turned and with all the disdain a 3 year old could muster, with a few words he called in to question the other boys sanity, taste and intelligence. Jason stood angrily defending his game and favourite animals,

"Dinosaurs are cool, they could have eaten you!"

Sherlock looked up and with a smirk reminded Phillip that all dinosaurs are dead.  
With an angry cry he stepped on Sherlock's carefully built boat and kicked it into the shallow water.

The following scene which resulted in a furious argument between the two mothers who had rushed over and each defending their 'obviously innocent ' offspring and with one final scathing remark, Mrs. Holmes picked up Sherlock who barely had enough time to pick up his plastic container, before he was swung up and carried away leaving his broken ship tangled in the reeds.

"Why did you say those things to that boy?" asked once they had reached a bench on the far side of the park.  
" B'cause he b'woke my boat, and b'cause I didn't want to play wif him"

"Yes I understand Sherlock, but what you said was unnecessarily harsh he only wanted to play with you."

"No it wasn't. He was 'nnoying me. I don't want to play his stupid game, and I don't care if he got upset."

It wasn't the sentence itself that left Adèline severely reconsidering her son's social development, it was the tone that shocked her, serious, unforgiving and cruel, it worried her and for the first time in months, she actually began to believe, that perhaps her baby boy needed help. However it was already late June and most schools had closed for the summer break, and perhaps it would be best if Sherlock were immediately placed in a situation where he could learn to socialize with children his own age.


	5. Ms.Danae

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps Sherlock needs to be around kids his own age

" Ms. Jane Danae?"

"Yes, and you can just call me Jane. You must be Mrs. Holmes"

"Adèline please. I would like to enroll my son at your summer daycare."

"How old is he?"

"He is three years old, but will turn four within the month. My son Sherlock is a very intelligent boy but he has difficulties with interacting with children his own age"

"I am sure our education centred games and activities will keep him busy, and the kids who come here are kind, and I am sure he will make a few friends" replied Jane, who often heard about the 'little angel Einsteins' who in reality were sweet but far from prodigies.

"Actually I am more concerned with him dissecting a bird and then setting its feathers on fire, to see which parts burn quickest. He did that last week and scared our maid half to death." Adèline looked up and saw the surprised look on Ms. Danae's face, she quickly added

"Oh, the bird was dead. It must have flown into a window. Sherlock doesn't kill or hurt animals intentionally, He had wanted to dissect a frog last week, but when he caught it he decided to keep it as a pet because he couldn't bring himself to poison it, even though I assured him the frog wouldn't suffer. He does lack social skills, he doesn't know any children his age, and his brother is seven years older then him and the age difference creates a rift."

"He is only 3, and he is allowed to dissect animals?"

"yes, but he is always supervised, and Sherlock is very careful with the dissection set I gave him for his birthday."

"Alright- umm well I will do my best to keep your son busy, and I will do what I can to make sure he gets along with the other children." replied Ms. Danae, it was her default response that usually calmed worried parents.

"I do hope he will be on his best behaviour, but make sure he doesn't get left alone for very long, otherwise he may try to find something to 'experiment' on." grimaced Adèline.

"The children will be supervised at all times, and I am sure that he will be too busy with his friends to do any 'experiments' "

"Of course, but just make sure he doesn't get into trouble."

Adèline left the small building silently hoping that Sherlock wouldn't object to her decision too much, however she knew better, and she acknowledged that no amount of silent wishes would or could convince her son that meeting other children was anything other then a horrible decision.


	6. Monkeys and apple sauce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First day at Daycare

The frustrated desperation shone in his stone grey eyes as he scanned the room.

Perched angrily on the low wooden bench he studied each child's face and deducing each one. Mycroft had told him about noticing things, he had said that it would be useful in life, he had said that if he worked hard and noticed correctly, he would never have to ask questions again. Which would surely be a great improvement.

He didn't like talking to kids his age, they were slow and incapable of intelligent thought. They were all basically monkeys, just like the ones he had seen at the zoo, when Mummy had taken him last month. He smirked as one mouse-like girl with a shy smile and long brown hair, gasped as she spilled her apple sauce onto her white shirt.

Mummy had dropped a kiss on his forehead and murmuring something about 'being nice' had left the building, ignoring the silent cries her baby boy threw her way, she couldn't hear his protests but she knew they would follow her for quite some time.

Sherlock watched her leave, soundlessly begging her to take him home, but he knew that if Mummy felt this was necessary for his "development" (a word the doctors constantly used, when dealing with him) then there would be no persuading her that it really was a horrible idea.

There was a Indian girl playing with the legos in the corner, who had stepped on one of the many bricks and was now crying as if her foot had been cut off. A chubby blonde boy was trading a bouncy ball for a paper boat, while the oldest child in the room who had obviously celebrated his 10th birthday the day before (confetti in his long curly hair,, and a bag full of new toys) refused to share his new action figures with anyone other then his short red haired friend. Sherlock moaned silently as he watched the lady who had welcomed him into the room approach him. Her name was Ms. Danae, and was obviously interested in a romantic relationship with her assistant teacher Ms. Randie who was currently busy soothing the girl who had stepped on the lego.

"Why aren't you playing with the other boys?"

"I don't want to" replied Sherlock sullenly

"What would you like to do?"

"Go home."

Ms. Danae laughed and patted Sherlock's shoulder as he flinched away.

"Your mother will pick you up soon enough, but meanwhile there are some boys playing football by the playground, I am sure they would love to have you play"

"I would w'ather get a book" he replied quietly

"I can take you over to the bookshelves, They are just down the hall"

"I can go alone."

"Suit yourself, If you need anything just ask me, alright?"

Sherlock nodded sharply and quickly walked away.

The bookshelves were a disappointment, there were books on tying shoelaces, on being a good friend and several children's mystery novels, which Sherlock flipped through but was disgusted with. He soon decided to slip out of the basement and go through his teachers bookshelves, and seeing as the daycare was in the basement of her house, that would be a very simple escapade.

A hundred small steps and five minutes later, he returned form his mission, with a large and detailed Atlas under his arm. He had nearly been caught as he slipped the keys to the upstairs door out of his teachers pockets, but she had been too distracted by watching Ms. Cowper wiping apple sauce from little Molly's white shirt to notice.

Ms. Danae's house was pleasant, well decorated, well lit and the new fridge was proof of the success of their basement school. He had no difficulty in locating her bookshelves which were scattered with romance novels and biographies of celebrities and discarded textbooks. He had ultimately decided on choosing the atlas because it would have a map of England, and he had over heard his mother discussing boarding schools with Father, and he needed to know how far away Mycroft would be, in case he needed help 'acquiring' chemicals from mummy's lab for future experiments.

Slipping the keys back into his teachers pockets was simple, and Sherlock had nearly reached a quiet corner of the room when suddenly the wind was knock out of him. He stared dazed at the figure who had pushed him and catching his balance he gave an exclamation of disgust and looked sharply at the lump of fabric which had interrupted his errand. The knitted jumper slowly rose, and revealed a pair of apologetic eyes, whose owner quickly murmured an apology and sat bashfully opposite of Sherlock as he caught the breath he had lost.

"well are you going to move?"

"oh, yes I'm sorry, I didn't mean to push you."

" No! I axed are you going to move b'cause you are thitting on my book."

Surprised and ashamed the blonde quickly rolled over to expose the lamenated cover of the atlas.

The two boys stared at each other for a moment before Sherlock reached down, grabbed the Atlas and dragging the heavy volume behind him left John staring after him.


	7. End of the day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It has been a very long day for Sherlock, but perhaps an even longer day for his teachers

"Class!"

The thundering noise of screaming and laughing children continued to echo through the large room

"Class, criss cross apple sauce!"

Slowly a few heads turned and the noise died down as the children put their toys down and repeating the rhyme they sat crossing their legs. Ms. Randie looked around the room smiling pleasantly as she watched the children cross their legs, as they followed the orders of the poem. However her smile faded as a dark haired boy continued to flip through the pages of a large book. "Sherlock, please put your book down and come sit with the other children"

With an exaggerated and very audible sigh a pair of large clear eyes looked up, paused, and closed as their owner shook his head and looked back down onto his page.

"You have to come here, you have spent the whole day reading! We are going to play a game before the parents come to pick you up."

Only an annoyed glare greeted her statement. With an annoyed huff she, signalled to Ms. Danae who had just entered the room, to bring the little boy to the group.

After picking up his small frame she planted him near the front of the group with rather undignified 'plop' near the mouse-like girl who had an apple sauce stain decorating her shirt. She greeted him with a small wave and a blush just before their attention was forced onto the teacher.

"So do any of you remember what day it is tomorrow?" asked Ms. Randie Only blank stares greeted her, but one Chinese girl raised her hand and answered;

"It's dress up day!"

"That is correct Jenny. Tomorrow is dress up day, so you have to come dressed up as something you like"

"So can I come dressed up as chocolate?" asked one boy who smirked as laughter rippled through the group. "I really like chocolate." he clarified

"Well if you want to, but I was hoping more costumes like princesses, cowboys and dinosaurs" smiled Ms. Danae, who had been eyeing the peeved boy who had been flipping through her atlas all afternoon.

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

"So how was daycare Sherlock?"

"Go away My'cough" was what Sherlock yelled over his shoulder as he stormed into his room.

"Not very well then?"

"No! They kept trying to make me play! I didn't want to!" He punctuated, flopping face first onto his bed.

"Did you talk to anyone?"

"No, I didn't want to" he said speaking through his pillow.

"Maybe if you played with one of the kids, then they might be your friend."

Sherlock turned his head , and thought about it for a moment reflecting on all the books and pictures he had seen of friends. Perhaps it would be nice to have a friend.

"It could not have been that bad, what did you do there?"

"I looked at an atlas, and read it."

"Did you ask your teacher to borrow the atlas?"

"No."

Mycroft laughed quietly and muttered something under his breath. He turned on his heel and sauntered out smiling like a Cheshire cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took this idea from my own experience as a kid, I attended a daycare which was more like a preschool the main difference being the wide age range of the kids. It was situated in a large brightly lit basement of a bungalow in a suburb in the USA, it had a nice big yard with a playground and an empty lot filled with trees beside it. I really liked it there so I am using it as the setting for the story.


	8. A Truth Universally Acknowledged

"Wake up Darling"

Sherlock creaked open an eye

"No. I don't want to go mummy!"

"Sherlock, this is good for you. You need to get to know other kids!"

"but I alweady know Mycwoft!"

"Sherlock, we have had this conversation already, and I am not having it again."

A moan escaped from the duvet as a tousled head of hair made its first appearance. He didn't say anything, but instead gradually rolled out of his bed and landed at Mummy's feet.

A soft chuckle escaped from above, and Sherlock looked up with a sideways grin.

"Alright then, I left your costume on your desk."

"My Costume!?"

"Yes, Sherlock your teacher spoke to me and mentioned that today was dress up day"

"Hurry up, Bernadette will help you in the bath."

~=0=~

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a child wearing a costume must be in want of constantly being told how cute they look. Well perhaps its only acknowledged by the adult population, either way Sherlock looked very miserable wearing Mycroft's old doctor costume. There had been a brief period of time when a 3 year old Mycroft had felt that the medical profession called him, however that quickly changed when he learnt of his fathers 'minor' position in the government. He found that ordering people around was definitively better then having to cure them.

Even through Mycroft had been 3 years old when the costume had been fitted to his chubby frame, it now hung a bit loosely on the 4 year-old Sherlock. Slouching with a look of unwilling acceptance Sherlock allowed his mother to run her fingers through his hair cooing her compliments, without so much as rolling his eyes he forced a smile because a Holmes' boy never disagreed with Mummy.

"Now Molly, its your turn. Please tell the class what you are and why."

The mouse-like brunette blushed and took to her feet mumbling

"I dressed up as Wendy from Peter Pan, because I really like her."

"Thank-you Molly, now Sally its your turn."

"I'm a tiger!" She said as she spun letting her tail whip around, narrowly missing Molly.

"I really like tigers, because they are big cats and they are orange, and my favourite colour is orange."

"And your turn Fatima"

A dark skinned girl stood up with a grin, she had roughly 8 feet of scarf dangling from her small neck

"I am the Doctor, and I lost my TARDIS so If anyone sees a large blue box its mine."

The class laughed, and Ms. Danae cautioned her against tripping on her ridiculously long scarf.

"Sherlock, your turn."

"I am an actual doctor" he said pointing at the plastic stethoscope that hung around his neck "because my mummy chose it for me."

"Very nice, now Sean"

By the end of the presentations, there had been several princesses, a couple of ballerinas 12 different animals, 10 various professions, 2 supermen and 1 god of mischief, along with 7 assorted celebrities, those who already have been mentioned, and just one pirate.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapters but its the way it turned out.  
> I am going to try to post a new chapter every Tuesday, emphasis on the word 'try'


	9. Battleship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pirate John plays a game of Battleship with Doctor Sherlock  
> Guess who wins

"Kids. Quiet down if you want to hear about the next activity."

When the noise settled Ms. Randie gave the instructions

"I have paired all of you up with someone you usually don't play with, some of you are with bigger kids, and some of you paired with either a boy or a girl."

a chorus of 'eww' 'gross' and 'cooties' interrupted her speech

"Don't worry, no one here has cooties- well non that I know of." she smirked as the faces in front of her all had matching expressions of horror.

"Okay well Molly you are with Allen, Amy you are with Melody, Samandriel you are with Cassy and John you are with Sherlock. Find your partner and then go with Ms. Danae to go pick a game from the shelves."

...

Standing in the line waiting to be handed a game John took off his plastic eye patch and glanced sideways to the little dark haired boy who seemed to be stuck somewhere between indignation and shyness.

"So you are Sherlock?" was the question John forced himself to ask

"Yeth."

"Do you see a game you would like to play with me?"

"No."

"We have to pick one."

"You can pick one."

"Okay well there is a Winnie the Pooh puzzle that-"

"I am not THAT little!" Sherlock stated indignantly.

"What games would you like to play?" asked John patiently

"I don't care, you can d' cide"

"Would you like to play, mouse trap? Or make a puzzle or colour?"

Sherlock shook his head and taking a deep breath he reluctantly pointed at Battleship, at least it was a quick game that would probably be over before the teacher called them to put away their games.

"But that game is for kids over the age of 8" John protested

"Do you know how to play?" asked Sherlock making an effort to pronounce the last word properly.

"Yes but I am almost 8 so I am big enough for that game, you are 3 and that is too little."

"I am act'ally FOUR years old" was the response spat back, and four little fingers were held up to his face.

"I'm sorry, but still lets play something easier." said John readjusting his pirate hat.

"I can count, and read the alphabet so I can play. I already know the rules." said Sherlock managing to promounce the words without his small impediment.

"Have you played before?"

"No, but I saw people playing it yesterday"

"And you think you can learn it?"

"I already know how to play."

John turned away from the small stubborn face, and quietly waited for Samandriel to choose 'Hungry Hippos' before the teacher looked down and asked for what he wanted to play.

Sherlock quietly followed John to a clear spot on the carpet, and watched as he unpacked the small ships and sorted the white and red pegs.

"Well here are your ships, and this is your board" said John as he slid over the small block of plastic.

"Set it up and tell me when you are ready"

A short silence followed during which John set up his grid with the long 5 piece ship horizontally on the top row and the rest of the ships in esthetically pleasing pattern spreading from the centre to the bottom right.

Sherlock on the other hand quickly placed his ships in a seemingly random pattern. Two ships on the edges and the rest around the middle but always separated from each other by several squares.

...

"Ready"

John looked up just before placing his last ship

"Okay Sherlock you go first"

"A1"

"Miss. B2?" was the reply and question that John answered with

"Miss. C3?"Sherlock asked

"Miss.E5?

"Miss. H7?

"Hit." groaned John as he reached for a red peg.

"Ok, uh H7?" asked John ignoring Sherlock's slightly brightened eyes.

"Miss. H6?"

"Another hit. J10?" asked John

"Miss. H5?"

"Hit and sunk. Wow you are good at this game."

Sherlock smiled a little at this unexpected praise and answered Johns guess of ' J1' as a miss.

...

7 minutes and 5 ships later, Sherlock studied his 'hit or missed' chart while quietly mourning the loss of his submarine and destroyer. John had suffered greater damages, having lost his submarine, patrol boat and aircraft carrier to Sherlock's efficient and effective playing strategy.

"H3?" querried Sherlock

"Hit. How are you doing this?"

"I told you. I watched other people play it."

"Well, you are really good at this. Much better then Ron is, but he is very good at football. And D3?"

"Miss. H2?"

"Another hit. Uh H6?"

"Miss, H1?"

"Miss." John grinned at Sherlock's raised eyebrow

"Don't look so happy John. Now I am pwasitive where your ships are."

John bit back a spitful comment about Sherlocks speech impediment, because although it would have made a very good retort to combat Sherlocks confident remarks about winning the game, he knew from personal experience that very few things called for such a sharp insult. So instead he settled for a silent grimace and reached for his red pegs.

...

"Hit and sunk. That was the fastest game of battleship ever."

"Told you I could play."

"Is this really your first time playing?" asked John with a small smile

"Yeth."

"You would make a better pirate then me! Pirates are supposed to be good at taking down ships. You should be the one wearing this costume" said John pointing at his hat, eye patch and Styrofoam sword.

"I didn't want to dress up but Mummy made me."

"So how did you guess where all my ships were so quickly?'

"Easy. First I know that people look for and make pattewns all the time. And it is easy to find those pattewns in games like battleship. You like to paint, I saw you paint yesterday, so I know that you would uncw'onsciously try to make the layout of your ships nice. So you put 2 ships vwitically and three horwazontally, that made it very easy to use the 'checkerboard' method to find your ships."

"The what?"

"The checkerboard method, is when you imagine the grid looking like a checkerboard, so what I did was to diagonally guess on all the black squares. It is quick and works for trying to find a ship that you don't know about."

"Wow, and that's How you found all of my ships?"

"No, I also watched your eyes, every time I hit a ship you would put the red peg on the ship and then count how many more empty spots that ship had. So if your eyes looked left then that meant that your ship was placed hoarzntally and I hit the right end of it."

"So kind of like cheating?" Johns eyes narrowed

"No just observation. I do it all the time. See for ex'wample your jumper is too big, but it's not new, so it's not an adult who thought you would grow into it who bought it, but most likely an old jumper from an older family member, you have a sister because your mum was leaving with her when I arrived, you look very alike, she was been wearing a very nice pink dwess, which she was unhappy wearing- so she prefers boy clothes and so your jumper could be a hand down from your older sister. That would also ex'pwains the long blond hair that is currently stuck to your pirate hat.

"Wow you know all that?" Asked John as he tried to locate the wisp of golden hair without taking off his hat.

"Yes"

"It's really good"

"Thanks"

"I spilt milk on my costume shirt at breakfast and my mom just grabbed this from Harry's room, even though I still wanted to wear my pirate shirt. But I can't wear dirty clothes here.

"Why is your sister wearing a dwess if she hates it?"

"She has a birthday party, and mom said that if Harry would wear the dress that granny made her, and pretend to like it, then she can cut her hair short like mine."

Sherlock smiled, pleasantly surprised to find that all his deductions had been accurate.

"Where-" John was suddenly interrupted by a loud scream coming over from the Hungry Hippo game.

"YOU CAN'T PLAY NAOMI!"

"BUT I WANT TO PLAY CAS! THERE ARE FOUR HIPPOS! . !"

"I am playing with Samandriel already! Teacher said to play in partners, why are you not with your partner?"

"Because Chuck is mean to me!"

"But that's because you called him stupid" Samandriel stated

"I DIDN'T!"

"Yes you did, yesterday when you were playing with me and Cas you told him to 'get his stupid face out of your sight'."

"THATS ENOUGH! Naomi you were given a partner and you will go play with Chuck, and maybe you owe him an apology." Said Ms. Randie firmly.

Meekly Naomi looked over at Chuck who at 5 years old had not been able to shake off Naomi's insult the day before and who seemed to be on the verge of tears.

"Okay Ms. Randie" Said Naomi resignedly as she walked back to Chuck ignoring the glares from Nick and Phil when she walked straight through their game of twister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a horrible human being, I am sorry for taking so long to upload this chapter I finished it last week but was too lazy to post it. Before you ask, yes there is/will be a plot and I expect the story to end before chapter 20 and I am aiming for 7 more chapters. Anyway stay tuned if you want to keep reading a story where all the minor characters are named after characters in SPN or Doctor Who. I will upload a new chapter sometime between soon and a fortnight from now.
> 
> I am sorry for any inconstancies in the story or in Sherlock's speech impediment, I always forget which letters it is he can't pronounce.
> 
> Also this chapter was not beta'd since my beta (aka my sister) has several basketball games this week and has no time to edit my comma splices- so I apologize for the terrible grammar. I TRIED!!!


	10. Friends?

Games were put away and stacked on the shelves not very long afterwards. Naomi had made peace with Chuck, while Ron had recruited John for a short game of football before lunch time. Sherlock had watched the teams kick the black and white ball around the small yard long enough to remember that he thought that it was a stupid sport, and then returning indoors. 

“I heard you are very good at playing battleship Sherlock.” Said Ms.Randie when Sherlock passed her in the small corridor.

Sherlock only nodded

“You got along pretty well with John, I was surprised”

Sherlock blinked, knowing that not responding to questions was the best way of ensuring a short conversation.

“Well I hope you can make friends with John, he is a very nice boy even if he is a bit older then you.”

A friend? He didn't have friends, he has Mycroft, does Mycroft have friends? He certainly never brought them home if he did, but there was the Greg he occasionally mentioned as being his partner for class projects. Did working together mean you were friends? If so then he would be friends with the gardener, the cook and the plumber. Well to be honest he hadn't really worked with them for long, only long enough to take what he needed from them; a small shovel or flower seeds from the gardener, vinegar and baking soda from the cook (both collected at different times as to not raise suspicion) and he may have taken some plastic tubing under the pretence of handing the plumber his tools as he replaced a leaking pipe.  
He had read about people with friends Mole, Ratty and Badger seemed to be 'friends' and they had picnics with each other. He had never been on a picnic. In those Narnia books he had stolen from Mycroft's bookshelf the four siblings were friends with the talking lion, but he didn't know of any talking animals he could be friends with. Peter Rabbit was clearly rubbish (he had not spent all of last summer stalking rabbits for nothing) And the Velveteen rabbit was equally as fantastical because he had replicated the situation presented in the story fairly accurately but he had only managed to singe the fur on his favourite stuffed bear. Perhaps the problem in his experiment was that he had not been 'friends' with the bear, he preferred the bear only out of the several toys in his room. The child in the story was far more attached to the rabbit then he was to his bear.

Sherlock turned sharply and headed for the bookshelf and flipping through the pages of a torn paperback dictionary he found the following definition of 'friend' “a person whom one knows, likes, and trusts.”

He likes Mycroft and he trusts him, but he doesn't really know him Sherlock reflected. He is seven years older them himself, has a sweet tooth, is much cleverer than he is and rarely volunteers information. Mycroft seems to know everything but never lets on until he is asked a question or he feels is necessary. Even deducing Mycroft is difficult, he seems to continuously remove all traces of his daily activities and only the occasional wrinkle in his school uniform or loose shoelace ever give him away. Almost like a painted canvas an artist continuously whitewashes. Why does Mycroft always do that?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the months long delay but it has been a horrible last few months and I have been far too stressed to write anything and so I have been dedicating my spare time to painting which unfortunately meant that I put this story on the back burner. Anyway I have now graduated highschool so I will have lots more time for writing (well until I start the rest of my studies) so I hope to wrap this one up by the end of the summer.


	11. Samandriel learns a new word

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who stole Spock's sandwich?

“So is it true?”

 

Sherlock turned his head sharply facing the soft round features that combined to create Samandriel

 

“Ith what true?”

 

“That you can read people, I was talking to John and he said that you could tell alot of things just by looking at him.”

 

“Yeth I can, but only when I want to.”

 

“What can you tell about me?” asked the curious Samadriel.

 

“I can tell that you thwink that I am a pwerforming Mownkey. Like I said, only when I want.” Stated Sherlock stubbornly.

 

Samandriel gripped the lunchbox he was holding tightly

 

“I don't think you are a monkey! I just wanted to know if you were really that good.”

 

“Look” Samandriel continued “I'll make a trade. You tell me three things about me and I'll give you the three Oreos my mum packed in my lunch box”

 

Sherlock narrowed his eyes “Show me the cookies.”

 

Samandriel opened up his tin box and pulled out the three promised cookies.

 

Sherlock nodded stiffly

 

“Okay fine. Only this one time.”

 

Sherlock studied Samandriel for a minute. Of course Mycroft could deduce much faster then he could, but he was bigger.

 

“Your father suddenly left your family and you haven't heard from him in well over 2 years. You have lots of sibwings, one named Anna and one named Cassy who is in here too. And your eldest sibwings argue wots, mainly becwase they can't agwee on how to run the family with your mum busy all day and your father gone.”

 

“How.....Who told you?!” Samandriel said rather angrily.

 

“Nowone twold me! I saw it in your clothes and lunch box and your backpack and shoes. Now give me the cookies.”

 

“Fine but how did you see all that in my clothes?” Samandriel asked slowly handing over the Oreos.”

 

Sherlock sighed and began

 

“Your mum works all the time to pay the bills, thats why you are dwopped off here by your much older swiblings, I always see you come in wif two, one guy and a girl bwoth over 16.”

 

“Raphaelle and Micheal” Samandriel interrupted.

 

 

“Okay fine. Well you use your sibwings old clothes and shoes, since I can see a faded 'Uriel' written on the sole of your shoe.”

 

“My shoes have souls?!” Samandriel asked open eyed

 

Sherlock gave the 8 year old Samandriel an odd look before saying. “No. Ofcwouse they don't have souls, they have soles.”

 

“What?” was the confused reply

 

Sherlock rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something that mummy would probably dissagree with him saying out loud but rather luckily for the sensitive Samandreil just as Sherlock began to say something rude, a loud cry come from the lunch table where most of they children had settled.

 

“SOME ONE STOLE MY SANDWICH!”

 

Both Sherlock and Samandreil turned to see a quite angry commander Spock.

 

“Anne, calm down! What makes you think some one took your sandwich?”

 

Anne pulled angrilly at the neckline of her blue starfleet uniform and smudged the rather comical eyebrows her mother had drawn on, as she wiped away her angry tears. Sherlock considered that this whole 'costume day' was the biggest waste of time, especially when people couldn't even pretend to be in character. Spock would never make such an outburst over a sandwich, and Spock would certainly not cry. Anne was an awful Spock.

 

“I had a sandwich this morning. It was turkey but then I went to play with Nick and now its gone. She sat down and cried while a tiger and the 4th Doctor tried their best to calm her down. 'Wendy' from peter pan was quick to offer half her own lunch and Commander Spock eventually accepted the well constructed avacado sandwich.

 

“Does anyone here know what happened to Anne's lunch?” Ms. Randie asked in a loud voice.

 

Heads shook and silence fell until Cassy said

 

“Samandreil was in here before lunchtime so ask him.”

 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. Betrayed by your own sister....family troubles indeed.

 

Samadriel glared at Cassy mentally reminding himself to stick some gum into her long black hair, before saying.

 

“No I didn't! I am a Virgin.”

 

Two boys of around 10 sniggered and Ms. Danae who had just entered the room looked like she was going to burst a blood vessel as she tried to contain her laughter.

 

“What did you say?” asked Ms Randie who was willing herself to not look at Ms. Danae for fear of not being able to maintain a straight face.

 

“I am a virgin. My big sister was watching a movie with me and the guy in the movie said it and I asked my sister what it meant and she said it meant innocent. I didn't steal Nyota's sandwich so I am a virgin.” Samandriel looked pleased to have taught his teachers something.

 

Ms. Danae suddenly left the room and Ms. Randie managed to choke out a simple.

 

“Okay then.” before following Ms. Danae

 

Samandriel looked a bit confused and turned to Sherlock asking

 

“Did I say something funny?” as the muffled laughter of the two teachers floated into the room.

 

Sherlock looked up at the young blonde haired boy and said

 

“Go look it up in a dictionary. It is under v i r.”

 

Samandriel headed for the bookshelves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized that I had gone a bit overboard with the random fandom crossovers.........so I changed some names to something not referencing other shows. Not all but some.


	12. Stealing pastries and other such nonsense

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft has sticky fingers.

Chapter 12

Samandriel had found the definition, but the words 'sexual intercourse' meant nothing to him and when he looked that up, he had found a word 'penetrate' and god knows what that meant, so he settled for thinking his teachers were weird and that dictionaries were useless, before going to sit down and enjoy his egg sandwich.

Sherlock on the other hand was carefully watching all the other children who all seemed to have forgotten the stolen sandwich. Mycroft would have been able to know immediately who had taken it. But Sherlock was struggling to differentiate between traces of chicken and turkey. Most children had brought sandwiches and it seemed like the person who had stolen the sandwich had either not eaten it, or had washed their hands and face. 

 

“Aren't you going to eat anything?” 

Sherlock turned his head to look at the boy in the pirate costume 

“not hungwy.”

“You should eat, its not good to not eat lunch”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and indicting his costume said “Since when do Doctors take advice from Pirates?”

“Whatever, I have a ham and cheese sandwich if you want to share.” John indicated towards the last empty table in the room.

“Hmm” was the only response Sherlock gave as he followed John to the small table.

 

..........

 

“Who was the nice pirate boy you were playing with?” Asked Mrs. Holmes picking up her son's back pack and stethoscope that Sherlock had thrown aside.

“John. He's okay”

“Well, call the papers, my baby boy found someone he doesn't hate.” She smiled

“Mummy, why would someone steal a turkey sandwich?” enquired Sherlock ignoring his mother's comment. 

“I do not know, maybe they were hungry.”

“Hmm.” Was again the only sound Sherlock made until suppertime when he caught Mycroft 'borrowing' a pastry before dinner was served, and he felt that Mycroft's bribe of splitting it in half with him was not as interesting as getting the cook to scold the older boy.

 

..........

 

“Mycough?”

“I do not talk to tattle-tellers, Sherlock.”

“You just did.” smiled the dark haired boy

“I am busy, I have an exam coming up.” sighed Mycroft

“And studying ith hard to do on an empty stomach” Quoted Sherlock sarcastically

“Pastry’s help me think, and Cook thought it was a good enough reason.”

“Food maketh your brain work slower” 

“Maybe for you Brother, but I have found that food sharpens the mind.”

“Shawpens the mind, and rounds out the body” 

Mycroft looked sharply at the grin on his brothers face. “You are not staying in my room just to insult me. Please leave.”

“No. I have a Question. Ith it better to let people wead you, or ith it better to keep evewything to yourthelf?” Asked Sherlock as he jumped onto Mycrofts bed.

Mycroft looked blankly at his brother for a minute before saying “Any information you let others know, can be used against you, So I prefer to not tell anyone anything.”

“But you need to share if you want to make fwends.”

“What do I need friends for? I have contacts and if I want something I can make sure I get it, friends take time and effort. It is however critical to be friendly with all my contacts otherwise they wont want to cooperate.” Mycroft all but sneered.

“So Greg isn't your fwend?”

“Ha, no. He is however rather good at some subjects that I am uninterested in, and he is willing to do more then his share in a group project, more then likely due to his obvious 'crush' on me. If I am paired up with him in any project he won't even notice that I hardly do any of the work, and I still get the mark for the final result.” 

“Thats not nice Mycough.” 

“Nice? I dont have time for 'nice' Greg is intelligent enough and always gets an A+ on the project, while I finish the work for my advanced classes. It works out for both of us, he gets to 'work with me' and I get spared the monotony of making poster presentations

”Don't you want a fwend?”

“What on earth would I do with a 'friend' Sherlock? Go out for ice cream? Watch films till the crack of dawn? I am eleven Sherlock, I will have finished school by this time next year, and since mummy thinks 12 is too young for university, I will be privately tutored in languages and politics until I am 15 and then I am allowed to move out. I do not have the time nor the inclination.”

“Awen't you lonely?” 

“What? Why would I be lonely?” Asked Mycroft, slightly taken aback by the question. 

“No weason.” Whispered Sherlock turning around and leaving his brothers room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO Sorry for taking this long to finish this fic, I was going to forget that I was working on it so I didn't have to, but then I was checking to see if 'Chameleon' by Velvet Mace had been finished but its been over a year since the last update so I was slightly upset that that story was dropped but then I remembered I hadn't finished tpahsef so I sat down and finished it.
> 
> I wrote the last chapters on a huge boat, while feeling very seasick and wanting to drop dead, so pardon any grammer errors, since this has not been beta'd :)


	13. Partners in detective work

“OOOOOOOWWWWWWWWW” Was the cry that made Ms. Danae's head snap up before she was up and running towards a sobbing Fatima.

“What happened dearie?” She asked bending over the small figure who was holding a skinned knee”

“I fell and it hurts”

“Okay stay here I will go get the first aid kit, you will be fine soon dear.” Soothed the teacher.

Fatima was patched up and back to playing 'house' before long and only Sherlock who had been grimacing as his mother kissed him good bye, saw the little brunette who snatched up the first aid kit that had laid forgotten on the ground.

He would have followed the little girl had the teacher not grabbed his hand and insisted that playing some absurd game was a good way to start off the day.

 

....

 

“Hi Sherlock!” was the call that made Sherlock look up at the blond haired boy. He supposed a slow blink would be enough acknowledgement.

“You know, most people answer say 'hello' back, Sherlock”

“Hmm”

“So what are you doing?” Continued John completely ignoring the lack of responses.

“Why are you tawking to me?” 

“Huh? Oh, am I bothering you? If you want I can go away.” said John taken aback.

“No, Why are you tawking to me?” Repeated Sherlock.

“Uh because you are interesting.....and you look lonely, I have lots of friends but you dont have any so I thought I could play with you.”

“I am not lonely.” stated Sherlock flatly

“Really?” Asked John doubtfully “You look pretty lonely to me.”

Sherlock looked up at him confused. Was he lonely? Maybe he was....But no, Mycroft didn't have friends and he wasn't lonely. Then again Mycroft ate if he wanted to think, eating made him too sleepy to think. What was it that Grandmama had said about them being so different from each other even though they were brothers? Maybe he was lonely.

“So do you want me to go?” asked John uncomfortably.

“No, you can stay.” said Sherlock with a small smile, which John returned enthusiastically.

“Do you want to play battleship?” John asked.

“We need to find a game which I can win.” Sighed John after loosing the 4th time in a row.

“I think I know who took Anne's sandwich yethturday.” Answered Sherlock beginning to pack away the game.

“Really? Who?” 

“Molly. I thaw her take a first-aid kit this morning.”

“So? What makes you think she stole Anne's sandwich?” 

“Didn't you see her shoes?”

“What about her shoes” Asked John, not seeing the point of Sherlocks question.

“They are muddy”

“So.....?”

“Her shoes were clean when she took the first aid kit.” Said Sherlock

“Maybe she went to go play in the backyard.”

“There is no mud in the backyard. I looked.” Replied Sherlock smiling.

“Then were would she get mud from? She wasn't gone for very long..”

“She left for about 5 minutes and she didn't leave through the back because there is no gate, and she didn't leave through the front because then she would have been seen by some of the parents who were leaving.”

“So that means she went through the fence.....there must be mud in the empty lot, there is only trees and garbage there.” said John thoughtfully

“Are you coming then?” said the dark haired boy pointing in the direction of the closed door.

“What? No we will get in trouble!” 

“It might be fun. Molly didn't get caught so neither will we.”

“You didn't lisp.” 

“What?”

“You didn't lisp, when you are thinking you stop lisping.” said John looking inquisitively at the younger boy.

“ I have a thpeach therapitht. she thays I am getting better.” Responded Sherlock defensively. 

“Yes she's right, but also when you talk about something you think is interesting you suddenly start saying words right. Like now you talked for a long time with no lisp.”

Sherlock looked towards him shyly, “Weally?” 

“Yeah, I dunno why but maybe if you stop talking about boring stuff you might completely stop lisping.” 

“But I lipth yethturday when I deduced you.” 

“Yeah but maybe thats because you knew you were right, now with Molly we have to follow her to see if we are right, so maybe being excited has something to do with it.” Suggested John 

The smile Sherlock sent his way was dazzling and before he knew what was happening they were at the door, dodging children and keeping out of the teacher's sights as the slowly turned the knob and went outside.


	14. Molly's secret

“She must have found a loose piece of fence because the cracks are too small, and the fence is to tall to climb.” murmured John as the two boys crawled along the fence, trying to keep in the shade of the branches that sprawled from the other side of the fence. Sherlock was busy pushing lightly on each individual board that made up the high wooden fence.

“Ouch”   
“What?” asked Sherlock turning around to see John holding his knee.

“A rock. It hurts.” replied John poking at his knee cap.

“Dont be a baby.” Was what Sherlock said as he continued to poke the wooden boards.

“I am not a baby” muttered John getting back onto his knees and following Sherlock behind a small bush.

“I found it” Hissed Sherlock as he pushed a large wooden plank that seemed to hang on only one nail, and before John could say anything Sherlock had disappeared onto the other side of the fence.

 

....

 

John tumbled through the narrow opening in the fence soon after Sherlock and landed on the younger boy's back. Sherlock merely threw him a wounded expression and rolled enough to throw John into wet patch of grass. John probably would have retaliated by throwing a handful of the grass in Sherlock's direction, but the other boy was already on his feet examining the ground and stepping lightly towards a large tree. John got to his feet and looked around, it was an average sized piece of land that had once held a bungalow and a shed, both of which had been demolished and lay in ruin. There were many trees and grass that was a good foot taller then it should have been. Among some scrap metal and discarded coffee cups there was some scattered pieces of cloth and tin cans. All in all it was an eye sore to the community and the focus of horror stories that local children passed on to one another

“John!” Sherlock hissed loud enough to draw John's attention away from the insect he had been staring at, to the little figure hovering at the base of the largest tree in the lot.

At the foot of the tree, there was a clumsily built roof that covered a wooden crate that seemed to be filled with fabric, and peeping right out of a crack in the roof and staring Sherlock right in the face was a scrawny orange kitten.

 

...

 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!!” Shrieked a pale faced Molly Hooper.

Sherlock looked up and frowned, he really needed to work on the whole 'not getting followed' thing.

“We were trying to see why you were stealing sandwiches and bandaids.” Sherlock replied. John continued to poke around the small crate, and said “Hey this is Ron's Scarf! You stole Ron's Scarf!”

Molly blanched and stuttered out a denial “No I-I-I mean I didn't mean to but Redbeard was cold and the scarf was just there and it was perfect. The pieces of clothing thrown around here are hard and really dirty, I couldn't use them. He was bleeding a little bit so I needed the clean wipes that stop insects from making the cut worse, that's why I borrowed the first aid box.”

“You named a cat 'Redbeard'? That's a persons name.” 

Molly looked up at John with an annoyed look “Redbeard is a good name for a cat. It doesn't matter if its a person's name. He only has three good legs so he is kind of like a pirate, and he is orange so I thought Redbeard was a good name”

“Why didn't you tell the teacher about the kitten?” asked Sherlock, not caring if the creature was named Marcus, Mittens or Coriolanus.

“I found Redbeard by the back gate during play time, but I heard the teacher say she was allergic to cats a few days ago, and my parents don't like animals, I always wanted a cat but they said no. Marcus can't walk right and if he is taken to a pet place they might kill him cause no one wants a limping cat.” Molly said looking sorrowfully at the curious kitten that John had gently pulled from the crate. The kitten indeed seemed to have a deformed leg, which Sherlock was poking at with more enthusiasm then was appropriate.

“So that's why you stole Anne's Sandwich?” Asked John.

“Yeah. I only get peanut butter and honey sandwiches and cats need meat. I gave him some of my milk, but he was hungry. Anne pushed me down when we were playing tag last week, so I didn't feel bad about taking her sandwich.” Molly replied with a touch of pride in the shy confession. 

“What do we do?” Asked John as he slowly petted the kitten “Doesn't he have a mother?”

Molly shook her head “He hadn't eaten for a long time when I found him all alone, maybe she died.”

“We can't leave Redbeard here.” John said, “ Maybe one of the parents will adopt him.”

“And if no one does?” asked Molly “They might lock him in a cage and put him down.”

“If no one takes him I will.” Said Sherlock.

“What? Really?!” Molly asked hopefully.

“Yeth.” Sherlock paused and with an effort repeated himself “Yes. Our cat died a few months ago and mummy wants another one.”

“That would be great! Maybe we should leave Redbeard here until our parents come to get us.” Molly suggested.

“Yea, but you have to wash out Ron's scarf.” John said poking at the thick wool that the kitten had probably used as a toilet.


	15. Epilogue

“What on earth is that?” Asked Mycroft when the small creature limped into his room.

“It ith a cat. Redbeard. And I am going to train him to poop in your bed.” Sherlock replied lifting the kitten onto the bed.

“Has it even been vaccinated?” Mycroft stared at the scraggy creature that was purring into his bed covers.

“Mummy ith taking him tomorrow. If his mom says its okay, John will go with us.”

“I want to meet this friend of yours.” Mycroft muttered returning to the book he was studying.

“No. You will scare him away!” Mycroft smirked which annoyed Sherlock even more. “No I will tell mummy that you are not allowed to talk to John.”

“Good luck with that brother.” And as Sherlock left the room holding the tiny creature, he teasingly whispered just barely audible “Sherlock and John sitting in a tree-”

“Ew! Gross Mycough!!” Sherlock interrupted sounding horrified.

“Weeeeelllllll---”

“John ith my fwend! And now I am definitively teaching Redbeard to pee and poop in your bed!”

“ If you do that Sherlock, Redbeard will loose his 3 good legs in an unfortunate kitchen accident.”

“That's mean Mycough!” Sherlock cried while wrapping his arms protectively around the little kitten that he had spent half an hour convincing his mother he needed.

“It also happens to be true. Make sure it stays off the furniture, I don't want to get cat hair on my school uniform.”

“Howabout human hair?” Sherlock asked mischievously.

“Don't even think about it.” Mycroft replied and with one swift movement gently shoved his brother out and shut his door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Authors note
> 
> Sorry about the long haitus between chapters, I suck at updates. I also renamed some characters because I had accidentally turned the story into a horrible mishmash of fandom crossovers......so I edited a few chapters and I hope that no one was too discouraged.
> 
> So This story is over 10000 words, and I feel like buying a cake to celebrate the fact that I managed to finish it. I have a few half finished fics of M to E ratings that I am not sure if I will finish. One of them I believe isn't half bad and I will do my best to complete it this summer.


End file.
